


I'd Do Anything For Love (Yes, Even That)

by empireoffclouds



Category: Football RPF, Real Madrid CF - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, isco is a ray of sunshine, isco should stick to football, more fluff than anything, not much sin tbh, toni is a grumpy man, toni's got it bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 08:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11376105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empireoffclouds/pseuds/empireoffclouds
Summary: Isco takes up a new hobby, Toni is too enamoured to deny him anything.





	I'd Do Anything For Love (Yes, Even That)

**Author's Note:**

> The Isco fest continues, this time without much sin (sorry to disappoint).

"Try it on!"

Someone can _try_ to make a convincing argument, but Toni is one hundred percent sure that nothing in his twenty seven years of existence could have prepared him for the sight of the most offensive article of clothing he has ever laid his eyes on.

Isco Alarcón, is currently dangling a crocheted nightmare in front of his face.

If anyone happens to walk in on this situation, Toni thinks it would look like some sort of next-level harassment in the middle of the apartment they decided to share so Toni could "settle in and learn some Spanish". It's been two years since that decision, and Toni's Spanish is nearly perfect, but he's still there.

He has just arrived at the house, walking in absentmindedly when his friend sneakily jumps on his back, latches on like a koala, and slaps his latest creation in Toni's face.

It's a knit sweater, that much Toni can tell, though the rest of it remains a mystery to him. It's oversized to the point where it will probably look horrendously unstylish, and the extent of the bagginess makes him wonder if it was really made for him as Isco claims. There are errant strands sticking out everywhere, adding to the fuzziness of the already very fuzzy clothing making the grand total pretty much a gigantic brown hairball retched out of a gigantic brown cat.

"I - wow." Toni says intelligently, torn between being bemused at the ugliness of the sweater and astounded as to how Isco had found time to learn how to knit.

"'Wow?'" Isco echoes with a frown, retracting the sweater from Toni's front and sliding off his back. Toni misses the warmth. "It's that bad, huh? I really tried to fix the stitches and stuff, and it ended up being kind of big for you..."

Isco clutches the sweater to his chest, making his way around Toni to leave, and he looks so disappointed that Toni feels like a complete ass for upsetting him. He knows if he lets Isco go like that, he'll regret it for the rest of the day, so he does the only thing that will let him sleep tonight - reaching out and grabbing the younger man's wrist.

They're standing awkwardly for a few seconds with Isco staring resolutely forward. It's a really strange position, and it reminds Toni of those moments in dramas where the man reaches out to his love interest to keep her from leaving indefinitely. Sometimes he's daring and pulls her into a kiss. Toni's not going to dwell on that.

Instead, he mumbles, "I never said I didn't want it."

Isco turns around, and his answering smile makes everything worth it.

////

'Everything' ends up being all the shit Toni gets from their friends.

He reasons to himself, the teasing can easily be avoided if he just doesn't wear it outside. So at first, he resigns himself to wearing the sweater only in their apartment, mostly to show Isco that he didn't throw it under his bed like the clothes from his mother that he rarely wears. To show appreciation. Nothing else.

It isn't because Isco beams at him whenever he's wearing it. Nope.

It's definitely not because Isco becomes infinitely touchier, cuddling up to Toni, fisting his sweater, curling around the more muscular man like there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

It's not the attention.

Not at all.

Then a few days later, James is waving them over to a table at Valdebebas's dining hall. Toni is exhausted from all of their training and the four hours at the gym he pulled the day before, so he's pretty much out of it when Isco drags him out of their apartment at this ungodly hour to meet their teammates for breakfast. Bleary eyed, he changes out of his sleeping clothes and pulls on the nearest outdoor appropriate ones he can find without even checking if they're clean, grabbing his bag to change into his training clothes later.

He's so tired that he doesn't notice the pleased glint in Isco's eyes or the tentative smile blooming across his friend's face, because if he did, he would have taken a step back to realize what he has done.

"Hey Isco, Toni - _whoa_."

On another, better day when Toni isn't half dead with sleep deprivation he might have laughed at the younger man's nonplussed expression. Unfortunately for him, it's decidedly not one of those days, so he spares a moment to stare blankly at Marco, acknowledging him with a grunt, then moves to sit at the end of the table with Isco, collapsing with a sigh.

Six pairs of eyes follow him.

"I'll get you a coffee?" Isco offers knowingly, fond expression gracing his features. Toni nods, thankful and feeling slightly more awake at the prospect of getting some caffeine in his system. Isco pats his head with a chuckle and bounces off to the coffee machine.

Toni has his head down and thoughts of _fuck my life fuck football fuck Sergio Ramos for making him train so hard_ hammer his skull. He's moving on to imagining a life where he lives in the woods, away from treadmills and weights, becoming one with nature and maybe living in a hut with Isco when he picks up his head and notices all of his friends staring at him like he's some anomaly.

"What?" He asks grumpily.

They all share glances until Alvaro elbows Lucas who starts uncertainly.

"That's uh... a nice sweater you've got there, Toni."

"Huh? Thanks...?"

Toni runs a hand over his shoulder smoothing it down, fuzzy yarn running through his fingertips - wait, fuzzy?

All of a sudden, Toni's not tired anymore. He's awake and fucking mortified.

Sure enough, he's wearing Isco's god awful creation, and to his dismay, it's actually shedding bits of fuzz all over his sweatpants and the lunch table bench as if it's not a sweater, but an actual hairy animal. Next to him, Lucas picks up one of the fallout, rolling it between his fingers as they all stare at it in a trance. He then flicks it at Marco, breaking the moment.

"Kroos, I take back what I said. Just wear your white shirts."

Dani laughs, and the rest of them follow suit. Toni's face heats, and he tries desperately to think of a way to save face. At the same time, there's a protective feeling niggling at the back of his mind, and suddenly, the teasing upsets Toni for a different reason.

"Isco made it," He snaps by way of explanation, bristling. He's even more embarrassed now, but he can't stand listening to them belittle his friend's work. He watches as the other men's faces freeze mid laugh and amusement creeps across their mouths that stretch into shit eating grins. Toni wants nothing more than to hit them all upside their heads and tell them to shut up even though none of them are speaking.

"Oh?" Lucas is nudging his side. The older man pushes the invading hands away with a glare. "What's the occasion, lover boy?"

"Don't call me that," He groans exasperatedly. "There was no occasion. He just made it. How could I say no?"

"Maybe 'that looks fucking ridiculous' would have sufficed." Nacho, who had been indifferently eating, offers his two cents. James shoots him a look, and Nacho shrugs his shoulders apologetically. Honestly though, if it hadn't been Isco who made the damn thing, then Toni would have probably said something along those lines.

"Why the hell would I say that to Isco?" Toni hisses, because do his friends have no souls?

All they have to do is look at that bright smile and those beautiful doe eyes to understand why Toni can't refuse Isco. Was that so hard to do? It shouldn't be since it's harder to not notice Isco's beauty, inside and out - the man's practically bursting at the seams with it.

They're all focused on Toni like hawks when Isco returns, scrutinising his behaviour as if they'll find some subtext in his actions. Toni thinks they're idiots who have too much time on their hands. Why don't Sergio or Marcelo assign _them_ more training hours?

Isco calls out to him from the counter before skipping towards them and doing some dodgy dance along the way with the energy of a person who has had more than six hours of sleep. "Toni, I come bearing gifts!"

 _Oh yeah you do, you gorgeous gift to mankind_ Toni's mind responds.

Also: _Shut up brain. Shutupshutupshutup._

"This conversation isn't over" Lucas warns, picking up his phone with a pout.

Toni disagrees.

Isco plants his feet and flourishes a steaming cup of coffee to Toni.

"I, Francisco Alarcón, am your almighty savior!" He announces dramatically, and Toni takes the drink gratefully, not so unintentionally brushing his fingers against Isco's. The lingering touch earns him a soft smile, and the energetic man shuffles next to him, nestling his head on his friend's shoulder and adding cheekily, "You're welcome."

"Thanks Isc."

Lucas mutters something under his breath.

"What was that Lucas?" Isco asks. "You want whipped cream?"

"No, it's nothing Isquito."

Toni glowers. He heard what Lucas said.

////

Sometimes, Toni just wishes he hadn't befriended a group of Hispanics. Luka and Mateo - for example - were very nice, and they always minded their own business. Unlike his five Spaniards and one Colombian.

_lucasvazquez has created the group: The Sweater._

_lucasvazquez has added 6 people to the group._

lucasvazquez: so we gotta talk abut this [5:30]

moratapelorata: idk what else to say [5:30]

hammyrodriguez: SAY THEY'RE IN LOVE [5:30]

nachofernandez: Obviously. What else? [5:31]

Toni stares at the chat in disbelief, groaning as notifications blow up his phone. He's horrified by the conclusions his friends have drawn from earlier and he's also taken aback. Isco's his friend. _Friend_. Toni loves Isco? Of course.

Platonically.

tonikroos: It's just a sweater wtf guys [5:32]

marcoasensio: liesssss [5:32]

danicarva: IT'S A METAPHOR [5:32]

hammyrodriguez: YES!! a METAPHOR FOR LOVE! our little german is all grown up [5:33]

moratapelorata: :') [5:33]

tonikroos: Stop making it weird, Isco and I are just friends! [5:33]

nachofernandez: ...uh huh. [5:34]

marcoasensio: lol [5:34]

tonikroos: Im serious! [5:34]

lucasvazquez: Yeah, seriously WRONG, silly german. [5:35]

danicarva: someone's in Egypt [5:35]

tonikroos: what [5:35]

danicarva: in deNIAL, you know, like the Nile [5:36]

tonikroos: .................... [5:36]

danicarva: :^) [5:36]

His phone's screen dims to blackness after he presses the power button, but seconds later, it turns back on as more notifications from the group chat appear. Annoyed, Toni mutes the conversation before falling backwards onto his bed.

It's really nothing new - his friends teasing him about Isco, that is. Everyone knows Toni has a soft spot for the noisy Spaniard since Isco bounded up to him on his first day of training, all wide smiles and shiny eyes. When the German and the Spaniard first started their friendship, his other friend and countryman Sami couldn't believe they were friends because:

_"-Isco's all bubbly sunshine and you're all gloom and doom"_

He huffs to himself. Anyone standing next to the aforementioned bubbly sunshine would look like a gloomy doomball. What the fuck even is bubbly sunshine? Would it be bubbles floating around sunshine? Or sunshine in the form of bubbles?

Before he knows it, it's past midnight when he feels the beginnings of drowsiness, still contemplating beams of light and liquid orbs. He decides to ask Isco tomorrow and lets the slumber take over. He's in that zone where his consciousness is slowly powering down, and right before he knocks out, his mind is at peace.

He falls asleep to bright eyes and wide smiles.

////

"It's both."

Toni's on the floor, doing his post-exercise stretching at the gym. His black t-shirt is drenched, cooling uncomfortably against his back, and sweat drips down his face. His limbs hurt, but it's a good kind of pain that keeps him coming back.

He's on a video call, phone on his thigh and earphones in, with Isco who appears to still be in bed, if his blanket and mussed hair are any indicator.

"I'm just saying, I don't think it makes any sense," Toni says as he feels the burn in his left leg from a particularly good extension, "Bubbles are made of water and I guess they could float around in the sunlight? But sunshine bubbles... no."

"Toni, you think too much." The phone screen displays an affronted face and Toni watches Isco sit up. "Don't you at least want them to exist?"

"I don't think it's about wanting them to exist or not, but more like they won't happen."

He doesn't know how long they've been talking about this, but it's nice to have a conversation that has nothing to do with football. For the past two weeks, Toni had been slaving over his free kicks while Isco had been practicing his corners. The few moments they spent relaxing were, for the most part, sleeping together.

Not like that.

Just cuddling.

Completely friendly cuddling, that is. He's pretty sure good friends can hang out with each other like that.

Okay, maybe not.

Toni has been noticing some... things. Feelings, more like. Feelings that he has had for awhile and tries to ignore. Feelings of the not so friendly kind.

No, not unfriendly like he wants to punch Isco in the face. Who the fuck would do that and be able to live with themselves afterwards? No one can harm Isco and get away with it as long as Toni's at his side...

... See? That's acceptable. Best friends can be protective, wanting to keep each other out of harm's way because it's still safely within the realm of friend caring. It's something that can be done in good conscience since they know the feeling's going and coming back on a two way street. That is fine.

What is not fine is when one side of that relationship becomes greedy. Wanting more.

Wanting not only sunny smiles, but private expressions only he knows. Wanting touches more intimate than skinship, some soothingly affectionate, others laced with burning intent. Wanting to be able to say those special words to that person and know what it's like to hear them back.

He doesn't want to be the only one with these desires.

"Toni? You alright?"

Isco's frowning at him, concerned, and Toni's throat clogs as his heart traitorously surges with affection. He doesn't know what his face is doing, but he relaxes it from its contorted state, smiling into the camera as he replies, "Just stretching after an intense leg day."

"Ew. I will never understand your workouts, you muscle bunny."

"I'm not a bunny. Bunnies are cute," Toni flexes his biceps, arching his brow. "You can't call this cute."

Isco's giggling, low and melodious into Toni's ears through the tiny speakers of his earphones. They do little in allowing him to hear the full timbre of Isco's voice, but it's still pleasant to hear, like listening to his favourite song.

"Cute, cute Toni" He crows.

"Isco..."

It's pure torture to be teased by the guy he is hopelessly enamoured with because he's thrown into an internal conflict of being pleased with attention and agonised by the irony. Because babies are cute. And puppies. As much as Isco adores both of those, Toni thinks he wouldn't want to make out with either. Besides, _if anyone's cute, it's Isco._

"Oh, um, thank you."

Snapped out of his thoughts, Toni stares at the screen, puzzled.

"What for...?"

"You said I'm cute," Isco replies slowly, matter of factly as if it's perfectly normal for Toni Kroos, gloomy doomball, to be complimenting him with something as straightforward as _you're cute_.

Toni's too busy dying to formulate a response, and he must be really out of it because he thinks he sees a pink tinge dusting Isco's cheeks. In a moment of irrational logic, he deliriously believes it might be because of him.

"Toni!" Isco exclaims suddenly, excited.

"...Yeah?" He answers despairingly, strained.

"I have something for you!"

There's rustling, and Isco's camera is directed to the ceiling from being placed down on the bed. Toni sees his friend's dim ceiling lamp looming, foreboding as he waits for the other man to return.

The camera shifts, and he's met with two things: Isco's beaming expression and a bundle of knitwear. They're literally a juxtaposition, and he's dreading the days to come.

Toni cries internally. He doesn't know if he can handle all of the teasing and having to endure long, uncomfortable days again without combusting from embarrassment. Even so, he can't say no, and he realizes he doesn't want to in the first place.

Because deep down, he's so fucking flattered.

////

"Are you avoiding Isco?" Lucas asks.

He corners Toni in the small house the German has been spending time in for the past week. It's further away from Valdebebas, a whole twenty minutes between him and Isco.

"No," He lies.

Lucas is completely unimpressed, narrowing his eyes accusingly and crossing his arms in the way he does when he's about to call people out for their wrongdoings.

"Let me rephrase that. Why are you avoiding Isco?"

"I'm... not." Toni grumbles again, sulkily.

"Bullshit." Lucas rummages through his pocket, yanking out a crumpled index card and shoving it into Toni's face. "Does this look familiar?"

It does. He definitely recognises it. About seven days ago, Toni had left a last minute note that he scrawled to tell Isco about his whereabouts. He could have texted, Toni belatedly realizes. It was kind of dramatic to leave a note like that, but he has his moments.

"'Isco,'" Lucas starts, and _no, please don't read it out loud_ , Toni thinks, mortification seeping in. "'I'm going to be staying at the house Sami still owns, for a while. Don't worry, nothing's wrong. Also, please don't call me. Signed, Toni.'"

The shitty note writer buries his face in his hands, trying to hide from the consequences of the insensitive words he penned.

"What the actual fuck, Toni?" the Spaniard hisses, voice raising in pitch as he becomes increasingly agitated. Toni flinches, curling into himself and averting his eyes from Lucas's irritation. "If you tell Isco not to worry, he'll worry, and if you tell him nothing's wrong, he'll go insane trying to find out the truth." The _especially when it comes to you_ goes unsaid.

Toni's stomach drops, and his chest feels heavy with guilt as he recalls the several instances when Isco tried to catch him after training. More than one of his other teammates came up to him during the week telling him that Isco had been searching for him after training like a lost puppy, asking everyone if they knew where he went.

In his mind, he sees Isco finding the lined index card on their kitchen table, confused and troubled, wondering why Toni didn't tell him earlier. The next day, he scrambles over to Toni to demand an explanation only to have his best friend run the other way, or make up some shitty excuse as to why he'd rather train by himself that day and not even show up to team practice. The days pass, and Isco becomes more and more disappointed.

Toni wonders if Isco misses him as much as Toni misses him right now.

"I can't _believe_ you two," Lucas continues, on a roll. He tells Toni about how Isco hasn't been speaking to anyone, spending most of his time in their apartment, or training alone at the gym, and if he's not spending time in there, then apparently he has been trying to find out Sami's address. "He's a wreck, and you can't leave him like that for this long just to get your shit together 'cause you two are literally attached at the hip and you're - wait. Oh my god. Oh my _god_."

Lucas is gaping at the German, taking in his attire. _Yeah, yeah_ , Toni thinks, _laugh it up_. He's long past shame. While he's not ashamed, he does feel like he's acting like he's going through a break up, wearing the first ugly sweater Isco made him and laying the second one over his lap.

The second one, by the way: baby blue. Practically a crop top.

At this point, Lucas has whipped out his phone to unabashedly take pictures of Toni with the camera shutter sound on, snorting all the while. The flash is also on despite them being in broad daylight, but Toni doesn't have the energy to care about the photo quality.

"Anyways Toni," Lucas says while quickly texting something and stifling his chuckles. He coughs a little, short of breath, and tries to fix Toni with a stern look but fails once he sees the sweaters, bursting into laughter yet again. "God, he really outdid himself with those. Uh, so we're all getting together tomorrow, Saturday, mostly for your sake. And Isco's."

Lucas jabs his finger twice on Toni's chest to punctuate his next words.

" _Fix. This_."

////

Saturday finds Toni opening his bedroom door, on the first day back at their apartment, to reveal a jittery Isco who pushes a brown bag into Toni's arms without making eye contact a mere five minutes before they plan to leave.

"For you," Isco says with a strange edge to his voice. "Will you try it on?"

Of course, Toni does.

There's no way it could be worse than the others, right? And he desperately wants things to go back to normal. So he waits until Isco closes the door behind him before he braces himself and takes the lump of fabric out of the bag.

He pales.

Shockingly, the sweater is by far the ugliest out of the three. It’s not even the size, texture, or style that’s the main issue this time - there's just something terrible about the murky brown/green yarn blend that's reminiscent of sewage and severely polluted bodies of water. Overall, the hue screams _really fucking dirty_  and Toni would like to let out one scream from the top of his lungs at this very moment because _how the hell - ?_

... But. He imagines Isco sitting in his room, making the sweater with Toni in mind. It's heartwarming. Even though his friend is naturally touchy with everyone, how many of those people can say they received handmade clothes from Isco?

Only Toni.

That thought motivates him to peel off his hoodie and pull the godforsaken sweater over his head.

He takes one look at himself in the mirror with a sigh, but can’t help the grin that works itself onto his face because even though the knitwear hangs awkwardly over his hips and the collar is on its way to choking him, Toni feels honored to wear it.

 _Fucking whipped_ , as Nacho had said.

When Toni leaves his room, Isco is sitting with his back to the wall and his knees drawn up to his chest, startling when Toni comes out.

The German makes his way to their shoe closet, rummaging around, with the Spaniard scrambling up to trail after him. Isco watches silently, which Toni notes is odd. So he says conversationally, “I think the black Timberlands would go well with this.”

Looking up, Toni takes in his friend’s indescribable expression with a frown.

"I mean, you don’t,” Isco flushes, seemingly at a loss, looking at Toni with wide, glassy eyes. “There’s enough time for you to change if you’re… if that’s not really what you want to wear right now.”

“I’m fine with it, Isc. Don’t worry,” Toni tries to assure him, confused by his distress. Does Toni seem embarrassed about it? Looking at Isco's apparent anxiety, the sweater clad man gives his best friend a genuine, thankful smile.

And then.

Suddenly, Toni finds himself led out of the closet and pushed onto a sofa with a lapful of Isco Alarcón, who proceeds to press his lips against Toni's fiercely, nipping and sucking at the alarmed man’s bottom lip before plunging his tongue in to entwine with Toni's passionately.

Toni's mind is overheating from varying extremes of bemusement and arousal to the point where all he can do is instinctively reciprocate the filthy, _fantastic_ kisses before he remembers that, fuck, this is his best friend, yes they are making out, and yes it is amazing – but fuck it all if a moment of pleasure ruins their friendship.

“Isco… _Isco_ ,” Toni breathlessly tries, turning his head away from the sinful mouth above him. Undeterred, Isco simply pants in a similar breathless state and moves to nose urgently along his jaw.

Then, Isco does the unthinkable.

Without moving his head, he scoots up Toni's legs, slots their hips, and languidly rolls their covered crotches together. Once, twice. Tiny sighs escape Isco's lips and Toni is drunk on the sounds and bursts of pleasure as he lifts his hips to thrust back.

Toni honestly thinks he's heard it all until the boy on top of him grinds impossibly harder - and _moans_.

He chokes, brought back to reality, and grasps Isco's shoulders, prying him off with all his might and willpower, doing his best to ignore the needy whine that escapes the latter.

"Francisco Alarcón!"

Isco gasps repeatedly, sprawled on the other side of the sofa where Toni has thrown him, dazed and blushing an enticing red up to the tips of his ears. After Toni regains his bearings, _what the fuck_ is about to leave his mouth, though it never does because the other man speaks first.

“You love me,” Isco blurts.

A beat passes.

Toni just gapes because... _what_. His brain just short circuited because he had been certain that Isco was angry at him with all the avoidance and pushing away. Unless. A tiny, traitorous burst of hope constricts his chest.

“I didn’t think you loved me - not in the way I wanted you to at least. Because why would you? We’ve been friends for a while and it’s good, great even. And I know you don’t like change.”

Isco rambles excessively, a nervous tick that Toni is hopelessly fond of. For someone who holds himself so surely, it would be hard to believe that Isco doesn't have the bulletproof confidence he tries to project. Heart in his throat, Toni finds himself inching closer.

“But then you wore those ugly sweaters! Don't lie, they're hideous, I know it, Toni. Y-Yet you were about to run outside, in front of our friends, _in public_ , in that snot coloured sweater! There’s no way you would unless -!”

He cuts himself off, eyes downcast and rapidly blinking in a way that he only does when he's feeling particularly vulnerable. "You stopped talking to me after the second one, though, so, I'm not sure. I'm sorry, was I...?" He trails off before voicing the _wrong_ as if saying it would make it true.

The evidence is all laid out, but doubt is emanating from Isco's small frame. Toni slowly realises that maybe hiding his feelings wasn't the best idea at all. The epiphany is all it takes for Toni to close the distance between them by pulling the trembling man into a tight embrace, simply holding him close, feeling the thump-thump-thump of Isco's heartbeats and revelling in the newfound meaning of their proximity.

"I missed you," Isco gasps, tears collecting in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Toni whispers softly, and Isco looks instantly broken before he realises his mistake and clarifies, "I love you... a lot, really. I just thought it would be better to not tell you, 'cause I wasn't sure if you'd feel the same way, and I didn't want to lose you. That's what I'm sorry for." The explanation sounds stupid once he gets it out, but he owes Isco this so he presses on sheepishly. "You're really important to me, you know that?"

The Spaniard finally glances at the other man. He catches the gradual shift in the other's expression in his periphery, and when he sees it fully, his eyes are met with Isco's side profile which is lifted with joy, lips curved, pushing his cheeks up to scrunch his eyes into half-moons of glee. Toni's breath catches in awe.

"I kind of knew before, but, I guess, it's different now," Isco says quietly while relaxing against Toni, who feels the younger man melt into his chest. “I've loved you more than anything for a long time, and I want to prove it to you like you’ve done for me. I don’t know what the equivalent to a shitty sweater is,” Isco laughs lightly. “But for now…”

Isco pushes back against Toni's front until they’re both lying down. Despite the build up earlier, Toni feels warm with happiness rather than arousal, and it seems like Isco feels the same. He lovingly watches as Isco turns in his arms to face him, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’d like to stay like this for a while.”

His heart swells.

Pressing one final kiss to Isco's forehead, he beams against his _boyfriend's_ temple, pleased.

“That can be arranged.”

////

The next morning, Toni wakes up to a heavy weight on top of him.

Isco's typing rapidly on his phone, grinning and chuckling quietly to himself and at whoever he's messaging. He's lying down perpendicular and stomach on stomach on Toni, short legs dangling in the air, and that's a position Toni's definitely not used to.

He stares at Isco for awhile, and when the other man fails to notice his boyfriend's awakened state, Toni pinches his side and jokingly asks, "Are you cheating on me already?"

Isco yelps, rolling off of him.

"How dare you!" From the floor, the younger man dramatically puts a hand over his heart "Do you doubt my love?"

"I don't see you wearing any hideous sweaters," Toni accuses, huffing in mock anger and eyes shining with mirth as he watches Isco gape, incredulous.

"You didn't make me any!"

Smirking, he replies, cocking his head to arch an eyebrow at other man's widening eyes, "Well, I guess I have weekend plans."

With that, Isco starts wailing about how Toni would probably make it a thousand times worse than the ones he made and _do you even know how to knit, Toni?!_ Toni's weirdly offended that his boyfriend thinks he can make something worse than the monstrosities he was given. Then, he freezes. _Wait a second..._

"Wait. You made the sweaters ugly on purpose..."

The wailing stops.

"Uhhh..." Isco panics. "The first one wasn't! I really made that one with all my heart!"

"And the rest?" Toni presses, voice dangerously low as he approaches the nervous man who slowly backs away with every intent movement made towards him. Toni's been to hell and back during this whole debacle and no matter how cute Isco is, he's not letting it slide.

"The first one was bad because it was bad, and, well, I sort of took advantage of my lack of crocheting skills as per Lucas's idea, haha," Isco cuts off with a gulp and drops his head only to direct his gaze back up, fluttering his lashes. _That minx._ "It was to confirm our love! Look where it got us now, aren't you thankf-"

He cuts off with a squeal, surprised but delighted as Toni pounces on him, tackling his small body playfully.

Let it be known that Toni Kroos is not to be messed with.

(Especially if you're Francisco Alarcón.)

////

Later, Isco's phone is long forgotten, kicked to the side of the room, and alight with one chatroom window open.

_iscodisco has entered the chatroom: The SweaterS._

iscodisco: WE'RE IN LOVEEEEE [8:15]

nachofernandez: We know. [8:15]

danicarva: okay what's new?? [8:15]

hammyrodriguez: I KNEW IT [8:15]

lucasvazquez: FUCK YEAH. CALLED IT [8:16]

moratapelorata: tbh we all did [8:16]

marcoasensio: ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ [8:16]

iscodisco: MORE EXCITEMENT OR IM MAKING YOU ALL SWEATERS [8:17]

danicarva: HELL YESSSSSS [8:17]

marcoasensio: YAAAAASSSSS!!!! <3 <3 <3 [8:17]

hammyrodriguez: I WAS ALREADY EXCITED THOUGH [8:17]

lucasvazquez: WOW I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING OMGGGGGOMG [8:17]

moratapelorata: IM LITERALLY CRYING [8:17]

nachofernandez: :D [8:18]

iscodisco: Nacho you're getting a sweater [8:18]

nachofernandez: damn... [8:18]

 

**Author's Note:**

> Man I sure love using italics.
> 
> If you liked it pleaseee leave comments/kudos and also follow my tumblr: empireoffclouds, and tell me what I should write next :)


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